


To Uphold the Office

by Dark_Ennis



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: M/M, President Cap, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-06 20:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14655606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Ennis/pseuds/Dark_Ennis
Summary: Cap is definitely the hottest President America has ever had.For my Stony Bingo panel "Priceless"





	1. I do solemnly swear that I will execute the office of the President of the United States

> I do solemnly swear

All Tony had wanted was to shake hands with their new president. Offer his support, undying devotion, operational weapons-building abilities, etc. He really hadn't been planning for more than a professional friendship at best. Tony just wants to make his president proud.

Tony knows that, as President (of what is ostensibly the free world), Steve Rogers is going to be a busy guy. Tony gets it, too, because Tony Stark is a busy guy. Tony twists under the glare of the Oval Office Secretary and pretends he cares about the 74 emails and 23 text messages he’s been avoiding since nine this morning. He’s frustrated that they won’t let him in to wait. For God’s sake, they’ve been on a team together for over a year and a half. Tony has a drink of presidential whiskey instead. It tastes like heaven.

 

Steve makes an unannounced entrance eleven and a half minutes after Tony arrives. His stride is as righteous as can be expected. He looks surprised but not unhappy at the sight of him. Tony inclines his head as Steve nods at him with a barely-concealed smile. Tony grins at Steve in return. Steve really is a big ol’ softy at heart, Tony decides in mirth that’s only slightly derisive.

“Mister, President,” Tony practically purrs. “President Cap. It has quite the ring to it, don’t you think, old boy?”

Steve grunts in amusement and corrects him.

“President Rogers, actually. The ‘Captain’ is redundant.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve hung up the shield just because you’re sitting in the Oval?”

Steve cocks a small, sly smile at Tony.

“Well. There’s President Rogers,” Steve pauses and his expression is more honest in its happiness than Tony has seen in a while. Not since Jan, he considers and carefully files the thought away into the back of his mind. If he's being realistic, it's probably even happier than that. It won’t do to upset Steve now, not with the easy calm that he's wrapped around himself. “…and there’s Captain America. I see no reason I can’t be both.”

Tony nods in consideration. He does not envy the no doubt exasperated exhaustion of Steve’s secret service agents trying to keep up with (not to mention protect) the legendary daring of Captain America. He chuckles a little in spite of himself at the mental image of twenty Men in Black running after the superior speed and agility of Steve Rogers and doing their damnedest to throw themselves in front of any super-villainous danger that might present itself in the form of HYDRA or the Hulk or Chitauri or whatever else might pop up that week.

“The American public may not feel the same way,” Tony offers when Steve quarks an eyebrow at him inquisitively.

“To hell with public opinion,” Steve swears vehemently. “Public safety comes first.”

They take a moment to grin at each other before Steve takes Tony’s hand in his, squeezing it with a masculine force that could only come out of the ‘40s. Maybe he just wants to assure himself that what they're doing is unmistakably heterosexual. How quaint. 

“Thanks for coming, Tony.”

“Welcome to the White House, Mr. President.”

> that I will execute the office of the President of the United States,

“So…” Tony drawls, kicking his feet up onto the desk of the Presidential study without dislodging the magazine in his lap. He ignores a pointed glare from both Steve and his two S.S. guardsmen. “What do you think?”

Tony had arrived half an hour ago, patiently waiting for the President to finish up a cabinet meeting and flipping through a _Hustler_ he had been more than a little interested to find tucked away in one of the desk drawers. At least Cap has good taste. Justine Joli was spread across glossy, slightly folded pages, offering herself up to the camera in flesh-colored mesh in some very flexible and entrancing positions. Tony really  _must_  get her number. That thought was followed by an internal wince as he thought about the last woman he had slept with, trusted.

But God, he's dying. Tony just didn’t, doesn’t, will not have time to deal with intimacy issues. Fuck Natasha. Fuck her for making him still love her even now when he hates her in near equal measure. Before Tony can even begin to think about Jarvis and put himself in a proper funk, he desperately switches his mind to the first thing that isn't Nat to take his mind. Staring down at Joli, he imagines her breasts bouncing softly as she rides…someone. Not him, because even in his fantasies Tony isn’t quite ready for that, but…someone. Some shadowy, well-built male.

Tony had snapped his eyes shut and settled into the surprisingly pliable couch cushions comfortably before he even realizes what he's doing, accepting the wait as the envisage solidifies in his mind. Joli is straddling the muscular man and her hips are grinding with carefully slow intention against his crotch. With each roll of her hips her chest bounces satisfyingly against the straining pectorals of the mystery man. She's nearly naked, wearing only a delicate pair of lacy, angelically white panties and a matching transparent bustier, and makes just the _most_ deliciously wanton noises as hands trail down her spine and land on her ass, pulling apart her cheeks headily.

The man’s abs tighten as he pulls Joli closer, his strong biceps flexing as he drags her against his straining pants. Suddenly, his cock is free and rubbing its leaking tip against the lingerie-covered clit as his deep voice rumbles in pleasure. Joli’s French-tipped fingernails drag the man’s now-blond hair away from his sweating forehead and the man uses a pinked tongue to lick a possessive line up from Joli’s left nipple to her clavicle. Tony strategically places the magazine over his lap before the twitching could become noticeable. He isn't exactly twelve but…something about the scene he's imagining is intoxicatingly delicious. He checks his watch. Steve would be coming back in twenty-two minutes.

Joli gasps in the ear of the man and digs her now-naked pussy so achingly slowly over blondie’s cockhead. They're kissing now, a lewd exchange of tongues as the man’s huge hands cup and tighten against Joli’s throat covetously. Blondie leans back from the kiss and slides his middle and pointer finger into Joli’s mouth aggressively and Tony cuts his well-trimmed nails into his palms to keep himself from getting too drawn into the fantasy. And now, Joli is fucking the man and Tony finds his subconscious entranced with the way the thick, pulsing member pushes languidly, insistently, out of her stretched cunt, just to the naked, blushing tip and then stretches its way back in again as the foreskin is dragged back until the wet slickness of Joli’s hole accommodated it. Tony loses track of time, enraptured by the depraved stylings of his own mind, and finds himself inserting his own body into the scene.

At first he's dragging his palm across Joli’s shoulders and rolling his hips against her lower back as the blond man fucks her unrelentingly, his calves squeezing an unrepentant beat against Tony's…and Tony is reaching out to squeeze the domineering blond man’s shoulder as he pushes into the (miraculously) prepared stretch of Joli’s ass as she's gasping and rubbing her own clit and someone's hand has found Tony's cock and he thinks it's too big to be Joli's…then finally, Tony is kissing Blondie, biting his jaw and neck and chest hungrily…Joli is gone and Tony is-Tony is spreading himself-and they're about to—

“Tony! I don’t remember having an appointment scheduled…”

“Captain!” Tony knows his voice is too loud and he makes a valiant attempt to schedule the rough lust back into something more casual and friendly as best he can. _Jesus_. He had been thinking about...well. Must just be a natural reaction to his personal…issues from Natasha. Tony isn’t like that. He hasn't...not in a long time. And those had just been casual experiments. Verification that he is, in fact, interested in women. And even if...but Cap most certainly isn't interested in anything of the sort, either.

Even so...the mysterious blond man from his fantasy _had_ looked suspiciously similar to Steve Rogers.

Maybe he’s a little like that. But only for Captain America. God, that just made him alive. Peak human perfection is scientifically attractive, after all. Doesn’t mean he’ll ever, ever act on it. His dad hadn’t spent millions of dollars on fledgling nanotech and thousands of hours saving him from his corrupt business rivals to raise a queer. That just wasn’t an option, no matter how fast Tony might be dying.

“Steve,” Tony says as his body begins to relax. “I have a few agenda points from the recent Ultimates meeting to go over. If you have time for it, that is?”

“I have time for it,” Steve smiles and Tony is relieved to see that it isn't the one he flashes at the press. Tony launches into the discussion about space travel and HYDRA and stoically keeps the magazine over his crotch. If Steve notices he certainly doesn't say anything.


	2. and to the best of my ability preserve, protect, and defend

> _and to the best of my ability preserve,_

Tony gets over his personal issues and reservations with the female form the best way he knows how. And if that involves a three-way with another guy? Well. That’s just mental health work. Therapy in action. And, _and_ if Tony does it in the Lincoln bedroom? That's twice as good because Steve _really_ doesn’t need to know and Tony  _really_ does need to rectify his strange little hang up with the male body. When had he become such a prude?

 

A hand trails down Tony’s chest and he grins, leaning in to kiss the female model in front of him. He ignores the distinctly _male_ feel of the fingernails (and how it makes him moan against the tongue in his mouth) and deepens the kiss with the chick. He kind of wishes he could remember her name. He decides to call her Stacy in his head for simplicity and pet names out loud to save face.

 

“Can I fuck you, darling?” he murmurs. It’s not exactly his best line but he throws it out there because if he doesn’t ask _her_ , Tony is afraid he’s going to proposition the man instead. Stacy acquiesces and Tony drives himself into her with a skilled precision as the man’s hand forces a moan out of his throat with its dragging up and down his spine tantalizingly. Tony gives up trying to pretend the erection against his lower back isn't the hottest thing he's felt in months and grinds back against it wantonly as utterly delicious filth is whispered in his ear.

 

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard. Would you like that? Want me to fill you up? Use you? Destroy you tight little hole until no one else will want you? Yeah, I know you do because you're my bitch, Stark. I'm going to ruin you."

 

Tony doesn't mean to, barely realizes he's even doing it, but he moans with such lusty devotion he knows he should be ashamed of himself. He shouldn't want this, he knows it, but he can't help needing this man to take him entirely. As wet fingers enter him and a tongue licks up the back of his neck, he pushes himself deeper into Stacy and nips at her neck, clavicle, nipples until she's whining and holding his head against her chest and riding him without abandon. The man beneath him is pushing into him all too soon (Tony isn't entirely prepared but fuck if the burn of a too-large cock forcing its way into him isn't  _just_ what he's been craving) and he isn't sure what pleasure comes from being filled by pulsing muscle, being squeezed by warm walls, being bitten by sharp teeth numbed by sweet, coral lips, and being told how he's a dirty slut who's about to be claimed by a real man who will teach him about being good. The pleasure is so all-encompassing that when the door opens Tony only registers it when a voice rings out,

 

“I—God, _Stark_?”

 

Steve has found him.

 

In the Lincoln Bedroom.

 

Fucking Stacy.

 

Being fucked by Mr. Muscles.

 

He's fucked.

 

“Ah…hey, Cap," Tony gasps out, trying to control his rough voice as he stalwartly ignores the way his male partner stops fucking him but leans in to claim his right shoulder in what can only be described as a biting ownership. "...Have I mentioned how lovely the Lincoln bedroom is?”

 

"Tony."

 

Cap's voice is tight in a way Tony hasn't heard in a very long time. 50/50 chance he gets his ass beat.

 

> _protect, and uphold_
> 
>  

"...the  _hell_ you were even thinking! When I gave you the tour I didn't mean you could  _make yourself at home_ like that. I know you're used to living in a world without..."

 

Tony tunes Steve out as he buckles up his slacks, button down thrown wide to reveal his scratched and bruised chest. He yanks on his socks as the disapproving look intensifies. It might have been Tony's friends who Cap had thrown out of the room but Tony's feeling no less like he's on the walk of shame as those glinting, blue eyes glare at him in frustration. Tony knows he really should feel bad about how angry Cap is with him but at the moment all he can think about is velvety pliant lips and unyielding, steel abs. 

 

If Jarvis could see him now...

 

Steve hasn't said anything in a while. Tony perks up to pay attention to the sudden quietude permeating the room. He takes in Steve's features and realizes that the man is...scared? Huh. Well, that's new.

 

"How long?" Steve asks, his shoulders hunched and his face drawn in frustrated confusion. He looks constipated.

 

"How long what?"

 

"Have you been...you know."

 

"Been what?"

 

"How long have you felt...like  _that_. Unnaturally. Because we can get you help, Tony."

 

"I really don't follow, Cap."

 

"Ya know. Queer," Steve pauses and looks pained. After a long moment, he adds, "We can keep it quiet...if you want."

 

"Do you..." Tony laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Cap, I'm not  _gay_."

 

"You're not."

 

Tony raises an eyebrow challengingly.

 

"Did you or did you not see Stacy on top of me?"

 

"Well, sure," Steve grunts.

 

"Great," Tony hums, considering his next words. "So. You should know...the rest? It's just window dressing."

 

Steve seems to consider this for a moment before growling in frustration and looking at Tony with strong, unyielding eyes.

 

"And why was he dressing in my costume?"

 

Tony blinks.

 

Uh oh.

 

 


End file.
